


Goatee Gaudio

by Eastwoof



Category: Jersey Boys (2014)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, One Shot, Random - Freeform, Unnecessary inner feelings explained? Never!, this isn’t supposed to be a crack fic i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 16:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15999428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eastwoof/pseuds/Eastwoof
Summary: Bob grows out his goatee, and Frankie has to fight the need to sleep to pick up some money. Time to shave the day.





	Goatee Gaudio

The morning sun peeked behind the unbelievably quiet suburbs of Belleville, New Jersey, burning through the gray clouds covering its way. The light traced the edges of each and every house, bar, and tree, and it made sure to seep its blinding brightness upon multiple windows within its reach. A bird squawked overhead signifying the time of day, though its crooning was an unnecessary wake up call. At least it was deemed unnecessary to specific patrons that were already awake at this hour, whether they wanted to be up or not.

One of those individuals that were able to come to was a certain Frankie Valli. In fact, he'd been up long before the sun rose.

He scrunched his face into a look of annoyance and bleariness as he stared out of the motel’s window. The dark circles under his eyes imitated a raccoon’s as he glared at the outside. It had been weeks, and he still couldn't believe that after all this time, Tommy had kept his half a million dollar debt to himself. After all they've been through as a group, not even Nick wanted to bother to keep up after Tommy was sent to Vegas. And now, here he was touring around with the only remaining member of the band, which he was very appreciative of he’ll admit, along with some hired- dare he say-  _ replacements _ in order to collect a hopefully larger amount of money this time around.

At least he got a break; at least this could be simplified. They were back on their beginning turf- their main roots, though it made him feel more nauseous than nostalgic. This was where the band began. This was where things zipped up before rocketing downhill at full speed. Now this… This was where he was to perform later that night. And he hated the idea of it.

Frankie let go of a sigh and leaned back into the rickety motel chair. He closed his eyes. He was sure staring at the rising sun would destroy his retinas at some point, though the junk on the street was also an eyesore. But finally, there was a possibility that he could actually get some rest for the first time since the touring business began. It was almost as if the stress of this whole ordeal alone was eating him alive, as was it taking up all of his sleeping hours. A forced snore was able to leave his lips for a brief moment before his eyes snapped open, making him look out the window yet again.

Oh, he was so close.

He was determined to try once more, but a rapid, quiet knock on his door just  _ had _ to interrupt his repeated attempt _.  _ As he stood up, Frankie was tempted to ask himself who could possibly be at his door at this ungodly hour. He, at first, assumed it was one of those crappy door-to-door salesmen or perhaps even a room cleaner that thought a quick sanitizing would earn them a tip, but a person became evident in his thoughts as his fingers brushed against the doorknob.

“Hey, Bobby.”

Frankie had to crane his head up just to look the band’s tallest member in the eye. He was always envious of the amount of inches Gaudio had over him. Even when his height wasn't of much importance to the subject at hand, being nearly half a foot shorter than someone younger than him always lingered at the back of his mind. It made him feel small- which he was. He simply never came to terms with how sizably short his height made him out to be, and in his state, he certainly didn’t want to think about such bullshit now. He rubbed his eyes in attempt to get rid of the redness that was starting to spread. Granted, it was more so to cover up his fatigued envy.

“Whaddya need?” The shorter of the two let loose a yawn that sounded more like a disappointed grunt in greeting of the man that settled in the room across from his. “You alright?”

Bob could already sense that he wasn’t wanted, but he felt that it was his job to check up on Frankie. He felt it was his job to be always worried and to always be willing to defend him. Wasn’t it?

...No, it wasn’t his job no matter how much he wished it to be. It was all out of sheer enjoyment. Bob knew it. He  _ enjoyed _ being there for Frankie. He  _ enjoyed _ seeing him. He  _ enjoyed _ being around him, and all they had to be was in the same room. It grew to the point where Bob had to use methods of convincing that it was just, and only just, for the sheer need to help a friend out.

He clamped his jaw shut in order to suppress a sigh. Knowing if the older member was okay was first priority. That’s why he was there and that’s it. The damn butterflies or moths or whatever insect that was inside his stomach wouldn’t stop him.

Finally, Bob opened his mouth. “I could ask the same myself. I didn't wake you up, did I?”

“Nah, ‘course not,” Frankie widened the door’s entrance and motioned for Bob to come in. “Sorry for the mess.”

Mess was an overstatement. Unless one would consider a few scattered papers on a desk and a pair of unfolded clothes on the edge of the bed a mess, the room was considerably clean.

Bob did his best to hold back a sudden giggle as he entered the lead vocalist’s room. “I was wondering if you wanted to get breakfast?”

“This early?” Frankie pointed his thumb to the clock hanging on the wall. “It's barely six.”

“You were up earlier yesterday. And the day before that. And, uh, the day before that, too,” Bob swallowed. “Did you even sleep last night?”

Bob wanted to mentally slap himself.  _ What a ridiculous question. He’s practically drained. _

“I took a five minute nap if that helps,” The shorter replied, drowsiness creeping into his voice. “I even got an extra minute in before you got here.”

“God, Frankie, this isn't good for your health. Especially since we're traveling almost everyday for shows now,” Bob rubbed his face, his hand reaching down to scratch his goatee that seemed to grow along with his hair within the past few days.

Frankie didn't look too dissimilar. His hair was a long, tangled mess like Bob’s, but he didn't seem to have any facial hair on his own features.

Scratch that. Bob’s goatee made their looks drift a billion galaxies apart.

The simple action managed to catch Frankie’s attention. He unknowingly began to stare at the amount of hair that formed on Bob’s face in such a seemingly short amount of time. With or without facial hair, Gaudio still looked so babyish. It was almost as if someone decided to take a marker and scribble on his chin and upper lip while he was asleep. If that was the case, however, Frankie would be willing to bet all the money in the world that the marker used would have been covered in Tommy’s fingerprints. Hell, Tommy would've used a crayon if he could.

“Frankie?” Bob asked, trying to get the shorter’s attention. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Frankie yanked his focus on Bob’s goatee out of his mind and made himself look over at the wall. He needed something to get his mind off of that… _ thing.  _ “You wanted to get breakfast, right? Let's get some toast or something.”

“Maybe you should get some rest first,” The taller said, “I can pick up some breakfast for you. Go to sleep.”

A chuckle, “No point in doing the impossible.”

“Impossible? You’re trying to collect $650,000.”

“And I’m nearly halfway there,” Frankie stated, a definite tone of finality in his voice.

“Less than $5,000 is not halfway.”

Bob had a point. They needed to bring in every penny or those security freaks would never stop buzzing their little heads around their band’s guitarist. They were short on time, and having such a little amount to their names was not going to help matters.

“We just started. We’ll get more eventually.”

“Then let’s hope  _ eventually _ doesn’t kill you, please?

Frankie felt the need to smirk or at least feel grateful for that statement. After all, Bob cares about him, and he should show that he accepts that respect with a grin. But he couldn’t bring himself to bring one out. His mouth twitched in supposable effort but nothing came out of it. Instead, his eyes chose to stray their way back to Bob’s facial hair. He had no idea what was so intriguing about the stubble on the taller man’s face, but here he was staring at the thing like it was going to come alive. All he knew was that he didn’t necessarily like it. 

Actually, he quite hated it and very much so. No, despised is a better word. He despised Bob’s new appearance. The goatee and long hair combination just seemed so unnatural for Bob. It was as if Gaudio was going for a hippie look that didn’t suit him at all. Frankie was practically chopping some of the hair off in his mind, making sure everything was restored to how it naturally was.

Perhaps that was the reason he hated it so. He wanted everything back the way it used to be, back before everything decided to practically rile up in flames.

“Frankie?” Bob called again. He bent down to Frankie’s eye level to get his attention. “You’ll be careful, right?”

The shorter said nothing in reply. He was so slowly, so  _ suddenly _ mesmerized by the goatee and mane that were mere inches away from his face. He stared in his trance temporarily before snapping out of his stupor. He turned to look up at Bob, who was a lot closer than he thought and backed away. He placed a hand over his mouth to cover up the slight flush in his cheeks.

Frankie stood tall. “Sorry, it’s just…” He cleared his throat. “Your face.”

“My face?” Bob was beginning share the feeling of flusteredness. “Is there something on my face?”

Frankie internally groaned at the thought of mentioning the untidy pile of hair around Gaudio’s mouth and scalp, but he parted his lips anyway as he maintained his composure. “That damn goatee. And that thing on your head. I don’t like it.”

Bob’s face turned to one of relief. “Is that all? Well, it’s all up to personal preference.”

“It scares people, Bobby,” Frankie voiced the opinion of many. “It scares  _ me.  _ I hope you don’t plan to stand next to any children with a look like that.”

“Are you calling me a pedophile?” Bob pretended to chuckled at the statement.

“No, I’m saying you  _ look like  _ a pedophile.”

“That’s not better!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Frankie tried to quiet down the taller man. “People are still sleeping.”

The pair stayed hushed for a minute, that is, until Frankie came up with a brilliant idea. He pointed to the chair near the window.

“Sit down. I’m gonna give you a shave. Just the goatee.”

“You can’t be serious,” The lyricist let out an awkward laugh as he did before. “I’ve been waiting for this to grow out.”

“There’s no way I’m letting you outside looking like that anymore,” Frankie shifted his head towards the chair. “Now sit.”

Bob finally complied, not wanting to argue and took a seat in the chair that was close to collapsing. It was an honest miracle that the chair was still intact. He looked out the window and stared at the beaming sun ahead. “Nice view.”

“It’s alright, I guess,” Frankie clicked his tongue and walked over to the joint bathroom to get a towel and a razor. “I’m gettin’ kinda sick of it.”

Bob allowed himself to giggle at the comment and watched the very few amount of cars that passed by. A strong blast of water was heard, which Bob assumed to be the sink. As it slowed to shut off, he heard the water drip a few times before coming to a complete stop. Bob’s calm expression dropped in an instant as soon as Frankie came back with the towel and the now freshly cleaned blade that was meant to touch his face. He had just now realized what he’s gotten himself into. 

His face was filled with instant panic, but his voice tried to remain as collected as possible. “Do you know what you’re doing?” It ended up wavering more than a pile of gelatin in an earthquake.

“Nah. I guess I’ll just slice your neck open,” Frankie’s voice dripped with a light sarcasm that had a hint of a snicker at the end. This was probably the most awake and chipper he’d been all week, performances aside. “Don’t worry, Bobby. I’ve watched my dad do this for customers lotsa’ times before.”

“Watching isn’t the same as doing,” Bob argued.

“Seriously, relax. I’ve got this all under control.”

Frankie draped the towel over Bob’s body and made an attempt to tie it in the back. Upon realization that the towel was far too short to tie, Frankie uttered a “just lean on it” before getting to work. He hurriedly headed back to the bathroom and grabbed some shaving cream to douse over the taller man’s chin and upper lip as best he could with a napkin. “I don’t have a brush,” he said.

Frankie leaned over to Bob as closely as he could to make sure he didn’t hurt the taller band member with his blade. To said taller band member, however, their proximity of each other left him feeling more painfully uncomfortable than anything. He wasn’t exactly at ease knowing that he could feel every time Frankie took a breath. The breathing was sharp and warm though, needless to say, it wasn’t all that unwanted. The tingling sensation from the tepid air on Bob’s skin made the lyricist shudder. He had to hold his own breath to not let out a gasp of satisfaction.

_ Damn, it felt good. _

It took a lot of willpower to drag his train of thought to focus on his main fear: the fear that Frankie would actually cut him. But he was sure it wouldn’t be done purposely. At least, he hoped it wouldn’t happen purposely. No, the older man would never do such a thing. Would he?

“Now, don’t move too much. Okay?” Frankie instructed, his tone imitating a mother directing a child. No, he would never hurt Bob on purpose.

Frankie held Bob’s head in place by cupping his hand on the other’s cheek, much to the taller’s inner embarrassment and delight, and shaved a tiny bit of hair on the edge of his chin to start. So far, so good.

There was a calming stillness in the air as Bob tried to convince himself to feel more relaxed and to ignore the minimal gap between him and his companion. The only noise in the room was the gentle tick of the clock and the feeble sounding slice of the razor every time hair was removed. He slowly leaned his head back as to follow Frankie’s command and stared up at the dark-colored drapes that dressed the window. He would have closed his eyes if he intended to fall asleep.

The lead vocalist was more than halfway done in no time. Truth be told, he was beyond glad that Bob allowed him to do this. He was glad that he wouldn’t have to see that goatee for a long, long while. And he was glad that he could enjoy the muted closeness that he was sharing with his fellow band member. 

Yes, he had been spending a lot of quality time with Bob these past few weeks, but it’s a wonder that the room filled with silent shaving was the preferred activity. He paused briefly as he tried to process how he felt- not just for Bob- about what he was doing. 

Was he aware of Bob’s sudden and awkward uneasiness around him? Yes. Was he aware that Bob seemingly wanted to spend every minute, every hour, and every day with him? Most certainly. The feelings just weren’t reciprocated. Or were they? 

No, it’s not possible. It couldn’t be possible. Frankie was shaving Bob because he wanted things like old times, and if this was the closest he could get, so be it. Feeling a tug at the heartstrings every time Bob smiled was  _ certainly not  _ a thing of the past, nor is it in the now. He huffed and ignored his thoughts before they chose to get out of hand. He instantly continued, the ideas fleeing as quickly as they came.

The shaving instrument began to round off the corner of Bob’s jaw. They were just about complete. 

But of course, out of nowhere, a loud honk from the outside rang throughout the block. The sun was fully out at this point and, clearly, so were the patrons below.

Bob nearly jumped out of his skin as he let out a high yelp that could have quite possibly competed with Frankie’s own high notes. Frankie shot up in a similar manner with a curse held under his tongue. The sudden motion from the two of them resulted in a hiss of pain from Bob as blood gushed from a small cut under his lip.

“Fucking shit,” Frankie wheezed between his teeth. He leapt to the bathroom to grab a bunched up roll of toilet paper before sliding back next to Bob. He applied pressure to the cut in order to get it to stop bleeding. “Damnit. I'm so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bob said with slight strain. He bit down on the inside of his cheek in order to stop himself from yelling about the stinging pain. He held out a hand, waiting for Frankie to give him the napkin. He coughed to hide his childish expression of euphoria when their fingers touched and feverishly applied pressure to the corner his mouth as Frankie watched with noticeable worry.

There wasn’t a lot of blood. It was just a small cut, after all. The gushing began to subside after the whisper of panic.

“That was a close one, huh?” Bob asked with glimmer of laughter in his tone. He looked at Frankie in assurance that everything was fine despite the repetitive apologies coming his way.

This earned a tiny snort from the lead vocalist. Frankie playfully shoved Gaudio’s side _. _ He felt a beat in his chest.  _ That’s new.  _ “Hey, why don’t you go take a look in the mirror? Make sure nothin’s infected.”

With a nod, Bob got up and quickly folded the towel as neatly as he could. Bob being Bob, everything needed to be as close to precise as it could be. He placed it down in the seat that finally gave way and collapsed. His eyes widened in surprise.

Frankie murmured to himself a string of complaints as he knelt down to begin picking up the pieces of the chair. “Just go. I got it.”

Bob turned to begin his march for the bathroom, and as soon as he stood face to face with the mirror, his smile spread in amusement. His entire goatee was gone, but his hair was still the length from before just as Frankie promised. Minus the barely visible cut, this was a job well done.

Bob checked himself out for a moment, gently rubbing his hands over his smooth skin where the facial hair used to be.

“How’d I do?” Frankie called from the main room.

“You did great,” Bob said truthfully as he headed out of the bathroom. He flashed Frankie a delighted grin as the shorter leaned his body against the nearby wall, gazing at the pieces of furniture he hid under his bed. “So, how about breakfast?”

Despite the weariness in his eyes, they were paired with the serene expression on Frankie’s face. “Sure.”

Bob made way to hold open the door. “After you.”

Frankie turned around as if to face the window, but stopped short when he looked up at Bob. He fought the want to stare and, with a smirk pulling at his lips, he stepped outside. And there it was again, the beat in his chest. “Nice view.”

“I thought you were sick of it,” Bob decided to inquire before stepping outside himself.

Frankie held open the door with his fist for a brief moment to recount that he hadn’t forgotten anything. He felt the keys in his pocket and shut the door. “Bobby,” He locked the door to his room and began to head down the motel hallway. 

“Yes?”

Frankie had no idea what compelled him to say it:

“I wasn’t talking about the window.”

But perhaps change can be a good thing.


End file.
